


Lost Sighs and Haunting Feelings

by IvyCpher



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Crying, Eventual Relationships, Ghost Jay Gatsby, Ghosts, Great Depression, Jay Gatsby is dead, M/M, Smoking, Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyCpher/pseuds/IvyCpher
Summary: Nick Carraway leaves New York after his neighbor is shot dead in his pool and thirteen years later he returns. When he does, he's met with rumors of Gatsby's mansion being haunted by his vengeful spirit.
Relationships: Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby
Comments: 18
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

It was the fall of 1935 when Nick Carraway found himself back in New York for the first time in 13 years, for the first time since he had lost his best friend Gatsby.

A lot had happened in those thirteen years that Nick had been away, things that didn't happen just to him but the whole country. The stock market crashed in 1929, and even though it was over, the Depression had hit and hit hard, the Mortgage Crisis, and so many other things that Nick didn't have enough fingers on both hands to list.

Things weren't as bad for Nick as they had been in the recent years, but things weren't as good as they were when he first came to New York either. When he left New York and returned home to Minnesota, he continued in the bond trade. But as soon as the stock market crashed, there was no one buying bonds and he was out of a job. He floated around from there, like one of the thousands of other jobless Americans just trying not to starve in the streets. He'd room with three other people in a two bedroom flat just to keep a roof over his head and he'd stand in bread lines for hours for just a bit of food. Jobs to be found were those of the laborious sort and were hard to come by.

But somewhere along the line for Nick in the midst of all the shit that was going on around him, he felt a pull to return to New York. It was sudden and hit him like a message from some otherworldly god as he walked down the empty streets of a too-tiny town, his body sore and his head empty of any feeling or thought beside boredom and tiredness.  _ New York.  _

So Nick left Minnesota once again and set off for New York. His second trip, however, was far longer than the first, filled with much hitchhiking and freighthopping. He got there, worse for wear, but there nonetheless.

New York felt the same as it did before, but also somewhat different. Like a dream you've had before but couldn't remember all the details from. Nick walked down the chilly streets, looking into windows of restaurants that hadn't been there before 13 years ago. It was early evening and the sun was cold and white in the grey cloudy sky. But then, Nick stopped and stood in front of a business that he recognized from his first time in New York. He hadn't even realized he had stopped walking until someone came out of this establishment and gave him a queer look.

It used to be a barber shop, or at least, that's what the front for the place was. In reality, however, the place was a speakeasy. In what looked to be a broom closet in the back was actually a secret door that led to the other side of the building with a bar. But Nick guessed that since two years ago the 21st Amendment was ratified and repealed prohibition, that the backroom liquor sellers came out of the shadows again. Jay had been the one to show him the place, it was one of the places he supplied illicit alcohol to. They hadn't visited it often though, Jay had his own hidden supply back at his mansion and they both enjoyed the quiet company of themselves, or at least Nick did.

Without thinking, Nick reached forward and opened the door. He stepped in and saw that the bar was nearly full of boozers who spent whatever little money they got on alcohol. They looked tired and shrunken. One of them at the end of the bar kept throwing back an empty shot glass in an attempt to get all the last drops, he was shaking with withdrawals and begging the bartender between empty sips to spot him another scotch.

As Nick sat down in an empty seat at the bar, the bartender came over to him and he recognized her immediately: Zelda. She had been one of Jordan Baker's sapphic friends back in the day, they had golfed together but ultimately split up due to Jordan's bad habit of cheating. She was a fatally thin looking woman who lived off of nothing but gin fizz cocktails, hand rolled cigarettes, and canned cherries. She looked nearly the same except maybe grayer, like she hadn't seen the sun in some time.

Seeing a familiar face made Nick feel better, he had no friends left in New York, so just seeing people that he knew and got along with made him feel a bit happier. "Hey there, Zelda."

Zelda stopped behind the bar right in front of Nick. Her eyes narrowed and she seized him up like a piece of meat in the butcher's window. After a moment, she spoke. "Nick?" She asked slowly. When Nick nodded, she smiled widely, showing brown, nicotine stained teeth. "Well ain't you a sight for sore eyes," She whistled. "You look like hell."

"Doesn't everyone these days?" Asked Nick, with a soft smile. "How are you?"

"I've been better," Sighed Zelda as she leaned on the bar. "Business has been 'bout the same though. Seems everyone has just enough money to be drunk. It's the same as it always was." She blew a strand of dark hair out of her face. "But how are you? What has you back here?"

"Well I…" Nick hesitated, it would have been odd for him to say that he came all the way back to New York because of a simple whim. "I came to visit Gatsby's old place." And as soon as he said it, Nick knew that it wasn't a lie. It felt like that was the reason he had come all along and he just hadn't realized it before. "To pay my respects. Do you know if anyone owns it? I would at least like to give them a call before I show up."

Zelda's smile fell. From under the bar she retrieved a small glass, "Aw, no one has lived in that old place… Not since.. Well not since Gatsby himself." She said slowly, looking around the patrons of the bar like she was revealing a dangerous secret. "People say it's haunted."

"Haunted?" Echoed Nick. "Why?" He watched as Zelda grabbed a bottle of whiskey from under the bar and filled the glass.

"Because of Gatsby." Pushing the glass of alcohol toward Nick, Zelda shook her head sadly. "All those rumours came back a million more once he was killed. And him being convicted of that hit and run murder of that Wilson woman don't give people any nice words to spare either." She was just about to put the lid back on the bottle of whiskey but then she grabbed another glass from under the bar and filled it for herself. "They think his ghost haunts his old mansion, waiting for new people to run down." She shrugged, then took a large sip of her whiskey.

Nick didn't feel very much in the mood for alcohol anymore but he downed his drink anyways. He was surprised, but he knew he shouldn't be. New York was a rumor mill with every lie available and more in circulation. He didn't know what to think when he heard Zelda talk about Jay's home being haunted like she actually believed it too. Nick slid his empty glass toward her and rummaged in his pockets to pay for the liquor. "Thanks for the tip, Zelda."

"Oh no, that one's on me, Nick." Zelda stepped back and put up her palms to show that she wasn't taking Nick's money. "It's just nice to see you again. I thought you'd done and blown this place forever."

Putting his money back in his pocket, Nick smiled sadly. "I don't think I could if I wanted." He stood up. "I'll try to pay you another visit if I can."

"You better!" Laughed Zelda.

Nick's smile grew somewhat and he tipped his battered hat to her then turned around and left the small bar. He opened the door and walked back outside into the cold. He didn't really know how to feel at the new information that he had learned. But if he felt anything, he felt… sad. He was one of two living people who knew the truth that Jay did not kill Myrtle Wilson, the second being the actual murderer, his cousin Daisy. And he didn't think that Jay deserved to be buried with the title of a murderer who was now posthumously given the title of an angry ghost.

As Nick walked down the street, he kept a careful eye on the street signs at each corner. The walk to West Egg was long enough as it was without bumming a ride from someone and he didn't want to make it any longer than it was by getting lost. As Nick walked, rubbing his hands together to generate heat when he removed them from his pockets, he thought of the rumor Zelda had hit him with. He put no faith in it for a number of reasons. One of which being that he  _ knew  _ Jay, he  _ knew _ how things really happened that day. And for another, he didn't believe in spirits. The whole thing to him was just a load of malarkey.

The cold was just starting to become too much for Nick when he flagged down a car. It pulled to the curb and the driver cranked down their window. "Where ya headin'?" They asked, taking a puff from their long cigarette holder.

"West Egg." Nick shivered, bending down to speak face to face to the person. "Or as close as that as you can get."

The person pursed their lips and thought for a moment, "I'm goin' to East Egg, but it's cold. Get in." They nodded at Nick.

Smiling brightly, Nick ran around the front of the car and hopped in the front seat. "Thank you." He nodded.

"S'no problem," Shrugged the driver. They quickly cranked their window back up and pulled into the road. "Where in West Egg you going?" They asked, looking over at Nick. "No offense, but you don't look like you belong on either Egg."

Nick wasn't offended, he knew very well that he looked scrappy. Even in 1922 when he first lived in West Egg, he looked nothing like any of his neighbors. He laughed softly and put his hands on his knees, "You know Gatsby's old place? The Gatsby who had all the parties some years back?"

The driver's eyes widened, "Surly you ain't going there? That place is haunted." They shivered, "Whatever are you going there for?"

Nick bit his lip and looked out the window. Buildings quickly passed behind them. "He was a friend of mine is all." He said halfheartedly, now focusing on his reflection in the window. "I was in town and thought I'd pay my respects…." What Nick said wasn't necessarily a lie, Jay indeed had been his friend, his best friend, but he had also been something far more to him. Jay had not just been Nick's first real friend, but also, his first real love.

Although Nick's love for Jay had never been returned… How could it be? He had never confessed. He still loved Jay deeply, even when he was desperately pursuing Daisy. And when Nick first left New York he still loved Jay too, loved him for a long many years. There wasn't a day when he didn't think about him, but after a while… His love stopped and he thought of Jay less and less. But now that Nick was back in New York, it felt like his feelings had returned with him.

"Oh…" The driver paused again. They looked over at Nick who pretended not to notice while smoking their cigarette. "I'm very sorry then." They supplied, sounding actually sorry.

The drive from there was quick, and Nick was thankful for it because it was also awkward with silence filled with cigarette smoke. They dropped Nick off at the end of Jay's long gated driveway and gave him a nervous look as he stepped out of the car. "Maybe you'll see 'em." They said quickly, with the end of their cigarette holder to their lips.

"What?" Nick asked. He was just about to thank them for the ride when they had said that.

"Your friend. Gatsby." With a smoking cigarette they pointed to the mansion at the end of the drive. "If he's a ghost, you could see him."

Blinking, Nick took a step away from the car. "Maybe…" He muttered, removing his hat and holding it over his chest. He looked to the desolate and sad looking mansion. Even from there he could see ivy vines growing up the outside structure, broken windows, and the giant overgrown hedges. With a shake of his head, he turned to look back at the driver. "Thank you again for the ride."

"S'not a problem." They smiled and then turned the car around and left.

Nick watched them drive away until he could no longer see their car and then he turned to look at the locked gates that blocked his way to Jay's old home. "If I do see Jay again," He mused, walking toward the gates. "I'll eat my hat." And then, he grabbed ahold of one of the cold bars that formed the gate and started to climb.

Inside the old mansion having previously belonged to Gatsby, something unknown to Nick stirred.


	2. Chapter 2

After climbing the gate and walking down the long drive, Nick felt a bit winded. He blamed it on the cold air and his increasing age. 42 was far too old to be climbing tall gates, but here he was.

After all the trouble with the gate, Nick was surprised to find the front door unlocked. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. It creaked unpleasantly and it sounded like the hinges were in a desperate need of an oiling. There wasn't much light in the old place and everything looked grey and dark from dust. As Nick stepped inside, he looked around. He had never seen the place so… so empty.

Even when Jay had died and Nick was preparing for the funeral, the place never felt like it did then. Like it was from some barren planet far, far away and there was never a soul to step through the front door. The sheer emptiness of the house made Nick shiver and he felt colder.

Most of the furniture was gone, probably taken by Wolfsheim's men to resell, and the walls were empty of everything but the peeking wallpaper. Nick shut the door behind him and walked out of the front room and into the drawing room. He breathed in and the air felt heavy.

"I can't believe people think this place is haunted," Nick whispered and he didn't know why. There was no one there beside himself, there was no reason to whisper but he couldn't help it. He sat down on the only piece of furniture in the room, a small chair that was a disgusting shade of green. A cloud of dust flew up around him like smoke when Nick sat down and he coughed and swatted it away with his hands.

Nick's eyes watered from coughing so hard and he sighed once the dust died down. From where he was sitting, he could see the white sun setting through a broken window in a colorless sky. He watched it, not noticing how the light in the room became fainter and fainter until he was left in a blue-grey semidarkness.

It was only when the sun had left that Nick started to feel somewhat silly. "Why did I come here?" He asked himself aloud. He put his face in his hands and breathed slowly. " _ Why  _ to New York?" He remembered the odd feeling that compelled him to return to New York without a reason and wondered where it had gone. There had to be a reason for him coming back.

Nick had absentmindedly thought that maybe he would feel better if he returned to New York, even if it was only for a while. Maybe his heart would heal from it's long ago love of Jay Gatsby and maybe he would be able to love again. But no! From the moment Nick crossed the state line into New York, he felt horrible. His love for Jay had suddenly returned and he was met with horrible rumors that just made him feel sad.

"I should have never returned." Nick sighed. "There's nothing here for me," He stood up from his chair and looked around. He had wasted so much time and energy just coming back, but now was not the time for him to leave. It would be colder outside now that the sun had set. He would freeze. It would be best if he just stayed the night in Jay's mansion but- he didn't want to. Nick didn't want to stay in that damned house alone.

"What choice do I have?" Murmured Nick. "Stay in here, or go outside and sleep under a bridge and freeze." He put his hands in his pockets and left the drawing room. He didn't know where he was walking until he arrived. "The library." He whispered, and with a gentle hand, he pushed open the tall doors.

It was darker in the library than the drawing room. The windows were blocked by the towering bookshelves. But the darkness was distracting, with it Nick wasn't forced to see the shapes of the past. He walked between two rows of books and absentmindedly ran his hand down one of the shelves like he used to so many years ago. He was surprised, however, to feel the spines of the books in the darkness.

"Of all the things to keep," Nick said to himself. "Why the books?" He sat down at the end of the row of books and looked around in the darkness. In his mind he remembered the first time he came to the mansion, how he had found himself in the library with Jordan Baker. Together they had run into a strange little man in the stacks who was amazed to find that all the books in the library were real. Nick felt a strange sense of déjà vu and laid down on the floor to think.

Some things, Nick supposed, just always stayed the same. The books in the library, the coldness of New York, and how people would believe anything if it was crazy enough.

It was dark, it was cold, and Nick felt odd and lonely in the old mansion. His mind felt heavy and full like the shelves of books around him, but no real thoughts came from his full mind, just confusion. Being there, back in New York, back in Gatsby's mansion, made him feel like there was a drunken haze over his mind. Like what he was experiencing wasn't his life at all, but the life of someone else in a picture show.

Nick didn't want to be lost in the odd thoughts that he couldn't tell if he really was or wasn't experiencing, he just wanted to go home. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and put his arm over his face. The sooner he could fall asleep, the sooner he could leave.

It was some time that Nick stayed there on the floor before he actually started to fall asleep, but as soon as he was just leaving consciousness, he heard footsteps that pulled him awake once more. Instead of bolting up and asking 'who's there?' like he would have if he was in his own home, he laid still on the floor.

"Old sport?"

Nick felt the blood run cold in his veins. It felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. There was someone in the house with him, someone who sounded unmistakably like Gatsby.  _ No.  _ He was alone in the house and it had be a bad dream was all. To reassure himself of his latter thougth, Nick opened his eyes and slowly sat up. But what Nick saw, did not reassure him at all.

He saw Jay Gatsby, standing there before him. He was pale and translucent looking like movie film, and was surrounded by a soft pink light. He looked the same as Nick remembered him so many years ago:  _ he looked alive.  _ He was dressed in his pink suit and looked as he did that fateful day when Myrtle Wilson was ran down and the world went to hell. The only thing that looked different about him was the dark red bloodstain that covered the breast of his suit.

Nick couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe when he saw Jay. He stood up slowly and shakily, groping the air infront of him like a blind man. "J-Jay?" He finally managed, "No… In town they said- but you… You can't possibly be…"

Jay smiled, "Nick! You can actually see me?" He asked softly. "I can't believe it!" It was then that Nick noticed that Jay wasn't actually standing, but floating a few inches off the ground. In his joy, he floated higher. "I've been here so long- but you're finally back! I knew you'd come back." He shook his head, his smile fading somewhat. "But you look so different… What's happened to you?"

Hesitating, Nick carefully eyed Jay. "You don't- you don't know what's happened, do you?" He asked quietly. He was beginning to think that what was happening really wasn't a dream. "Jay… It's 1935."

At that, Jay's smile completely disappeared. "What?" He looked around the dark library, his form sinking in the air. "No, no that can't be… I- I know I came back some time after you left but- that much time can't have passed."

"You've…" Nick sighed, he put his arm out to the bookshelf beside him and carefully sat down against it. "You've missed a lot…" He said sadly. "And nothing good." He paused. "It's really is you, isn't it?"

The pink glow around Jay dimmed and he moved to where Nick was sitting and sat beside him. "You didn't recognize me at my first party you attended and you still don't recognize me now?" He reached out to touch Nick's arm but his hand went straight through him.

Nick shivered at the feeling of Jay's hand passing right through him. "You know, Jay… With how you were- were in life," He choked out. "I shouldn't be surprised that you've returned as a… a-"

"Ghost?" Supplied Jay.

With a nod, Nick sighed. He didn't know what to say, he felt very much numb. Maybe he was in shock, he didn't know, but he didn't understand anything that was happening inside or around him. His best friend and love of his life was back from the dead and there he was sitting, dumbstruck without a word to say. He opened his mouth to speak but then no words came. Nick started to cry. " _ You're dead."  _ He sobbed into his hands. " _ Jay, you're dead."  _ He said it again.

Beside him, Jay's glow came back like a faulty bulb. "Nick!" He tried to grab his living friend's hands but again his touch was fake. "I-..." He began, "I know I'm dead." He said finally. "I've had time to think on that, more time than I thought apparently-" He muttered to himself. His hand fluttered nervously to the blood stain on his chest and he pressed his fingers down upon it, hard. "But- well, I don't know much about it." Jay admitted honestly. "But you're here, you're here like I'd hoped you'd be." He said softly, reaching out to touch Nick again but hesitating.

Though he was unable to stop his tears, Nick pulled his tear stained hands away from his face and wiped them on his pants. He looked at Jay and he wished that he could feel numb again, because now he felt as if he was feeling every bad emotion in the world. He was confused and sad and hurt. Nick felt like he was experiencing Jay's death all over again, but he wasn't, he was experiencing quite the opposite. "You-... You hoped I'd come here?" Nick gasped. "Why?"

"Because, Nick… Out of all the people I ever met… You seemed like the only one to actually care about me."

At those words, Nick felt his tears stop but his chest began to feel oddly shaky like he was standing directly in front of a very loud band. He blinked and two final, fat tears slid down his cheeks. "Before-" He took in a deep breath to steady himself. "I only came back because… Well I don't know why. I just felt like I should. Maybe- maybe you were the reason I came back, Jay."

Jay smiled and the pink glow around him spread to his cheeks. "I've been alone for so long… No one comes here anymore." He pushed back his hair with his hand. "Do you plan to stay in New York?"

"I… I don't know…" Nick swallowed and closed his eyes and wiped his face on his sleeve. "Before you- I uh… Well I wanted to hop on the first train out of here. But there's nothing back for me in Minnesota anymore, there's nothing for anyone right now." He opened his eyes again and sighed. He noticed Jay's frown and added quickly, "I'll stay for a while at least… But I don't know how I'd live. No food, no matches, no anything." He shrugged and then a shiver ran down his spine. "This place might not be cold for you, but it is for me. And winter hasn't even hit yet."

Jay stood up, "You're right. When you're dead, you're never cold, but you are alone." He extended his hand to Nick but then quickly pulled back. "I think there might still be some matches by the fireplace in here."

Nick stood up by himself and looked around. The only light in the dark library was the rose one given off by Jay, it lit up the books around them like a pink candle flame. "But what will we burn?" He asked.

"Why, the books of course."

Usually, the thought of burning books would have made Nick shudder, but he was far too cold to find himself caring. He grabbed a random armful of books from one of the closest shelves and followed Jay through the maze of stacks to the end of the library where there was an empty stone fireplace with a half full book of matches on the hearth.

Nick lit a fire with two matches and one of the books. Being paper, it burned quite fast and only gave off a small amount of heat.

"Burn whatever else you need to, Nick." Jay said, watching the pages of the book curl into ash.

"Are you sure?" Asked Nick.

"I can't have you freezing on me," Smiled Jay sadly.

From there, Nick hesitantly broke up one of the leftover pieces of furniture in the room. It was a wooden end table and burnt far better than the books. Once the fire was going well and was giving off a steady heat, Nick sat down in front of it with his leftover stack of books and remaining pieces of end table to burn. Jay sat next to him and for a moment the only sound between them was the crackling of the fire.

"So…" Jay said finally, turning to Nick. The light of the fire shone through him and made his ghostly pink glow look even brighter, like one of those beautiful pink sunsets that made everyone stop and stare. "Will you tell me what I've missed?"

"Nothing good," Sighed Nick. He took off his hat and dropped it on the pile of books near him. "Everything went to hell in a handbasket a few years after you d-." He stopped and sat up straighter, "After that." He said instead. "Nothing's been the same since."

"Tell me." Jay urged.

And so Nick did. All into the night until the sun peeked into the sky and brought light into the library windows, Nick told Gatsby of all the horrible things that had befallen the nation. His tiredness slowly seemed to leave him as he talked, being with Jay and catching him up on 13 years of information seemed to make him feel more awake then ever.

"I don't know whether I'm thankful to have missed out on that or sad you had to go through it all alone," Jay said, once Nick had finished. "You don't have a place to live?"

Nick shook his head, "Well- sometimes. Not often. Homes are expensive."

Jay was quiet for a moment, then he stood up and held out his arms. "You can live here, old sport! You can have my home." Then he noticed the early morning sun streaming through the windows and gasped, "Look at me, I've kept you up all night." He said before Nick could respond to his crazy offer. "I'll leave… You get some sleep, Nick, you need it." Jay nodded and even though Nick was trying to stutter out a reply, he turned around and walked away a few feet before simply fading away.

Nick was left flabbergasted on the floor and suddenly feeling very tired. "Jay…" He muttered to himself. "Comes to me as a ghost and then invites me to live in his house…" He thought that it would be a much scarier situation if the ghost wasn't Jay. Then with a yawn, he got up and moved between a row of books where the sun was blocked out and laid down to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When Nick woke up, it was late in the afternoon and his body hurt from sleeping on the floor. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head, there came a series of satisfying and probably unhealthy cracks from his joints.

Nick looked around, the library was bright and dusty, but there was no sign of Jay. "Maybe I imagined him…?" He muttered, bracing himself against a nearby shelf and standing up. His head ached from the previous night's tears and general overload of information.

"Jay?" Nick called out, with half of him wanting Jay to be a dream and the other half wishing for him to be real. When he turned around, he was suddenly met with the ghost of the house himself, beaming and looking very good despite being dead.

"Morning, Nick! How did the floor treat you?" Jay asked. "Sorry about the lack of sleep suited furniture."

Nick yelped and jumped back, his hand flying to his heart. "J-Jay!" He stuttered, then sighed. "God, it's too early for this." He muttered, but his lips hitched into the smallest of smiles. "Guess it wasn't a dream after all…" He said more to himself than to Jay. "You're looking chipper."

"Can't a man celebrate the return of his finest friend?" Jay asked, pushing his hair back despite it not being in his face. "What are you going to do today?" He asked slowly.

Nick hesitated, he didn't really know what he was going to do. While biting his lip, he gave a shrug. "Well, I suppose I should try to find some place to eat… Maybe a job, if there's any, since you'd like me to stay."

"Oh, yes,  _ food."  _ Jay said the word like he had never heard of it before. "But then, you'll be back won't you?"

Looking up at Jay, Nick saw the fear in his eyes and his heart fell. 13 years Jay had been alone and he hadn't even known that he was alone that long. Nick didn't know if he'd ever be able to leave New York again, he could never stomach the thought of Jay being alone again. "Yes." He nodded. "I'll be back, Jay," He said quietly, giving a small, reassuring smile.

The fear melted from Jay's eyes and he returned Nick's nod. "You know, old sport, I think one of the things I miss about being alive the most is touching people." He looked down at his hands and then back at Nick. "It's… It's very weird."

Nick slowly reached out and let his hand hover over Jay's for a second before letting it pass through his. He remembered Jay when he was alive. He had always been such a touchy person, always patting others on the back, giving wrist popping handshakes, and many more subtle touches that Nick never noticed until he thought about them. Like the way Jay would grab his hands to get his attention about something, or the way he would wrap his arm around his shoulders, or how he would keep his hand on the small of his back to direct him somewhere or… How Jay seemed to never do those things to anyone but Nick.

"I-I bet," Nick whispered after he came to his realization. He looked up at Jay, at his spirit, his ghost, whatever he was, but then quickly looked away. He felt embarrassed and guilty. Perhaps if he had noticed how Jay acted like that around him and no one else when he was alive, maybe he would still be alive and not some pink ghost haunting the halls of his old home. "Well," Nick cleared his throat. "I had better head out. It's a bit of a walk to Zelda's." He rubbed the back of his neck slowly, trying to step around Jay.

"Zelda's?" Jay's face brightened, literally to a bright pink. He threw himself in front of Nick and accidentally ended up floating halfway through him. "Sorry-" He said quickly and then floated back. "You mean she still has her old place?" He asked.

A shiver ran down Nick's spine when Jay floated through him, it was followed by an even bigger shiver when he floated out of him. "Yeah," He said slowly, after recovering from the horribly queer feeling of your ghost crush passing through you like a strong wind. "I thought I told you? She's in the same place, just out in the open now that they turned over prohibition." He rubbed his arms, "She was warm towards me yesterday… I figured if I'm to stay here, she might have a job for me."

Jay put his hand to his head, smiling bemusedly. "It's been so long since I've thought about her!" He said softly, shaking his head. "A few thought I was crazy for putting a black woman in charge of a bar but she was the best. A real bearcat…" He looked at Nick, still smiling. "Tell her I said 'hi', will you?"

Nick couldn't help himself from smiling at Jay's request. "Of course. But I better get a move on if I want to get there and back before midnight."

"Oh yeah, of course," Jay moved aside. "See you tonight, Nick."

With a small wave, Nick walked past Jay. "See you." And with that he walked out of the library and left the empty mansion.

As Nick walked from West Egg to Zelda's bar, he was met with no friendly motorist to offer him a ride. But that was okay, he didn't want a ride. If he had a ride, he would have to make small talk and he didn't feel much like chatting with a stranger about things that he already knew. He felt like thinking. So he thought as he walked down the grey streets. He thought about Jay.

Nick knew that he could just be overthinking Jay's old actions towards him, he knew that very well. But he also knew that maybe he wasn't overthinking them at all. Yes, Jay had loved Daisy, but what was there to stop a man from loving other men alongside women? Jay was always ahead of the times in those ways… More open minded than most in New York…

As Nick's thoughts tumbled around in his head, becoming more words than actual thoughts, he finally made it to Zelda's. He opened the door and stepped inside. The bar was fuller than it had been the day before and no seats were available. He stepped past a few people who smelled stale and of yeast from all the alcohol they were consuming and stood at the end of the bar, waiting for Zelda to finish what she was doing.

When Zelda finished with the people who she was serving at the end of the bar, she finally noticed Nick. "Now why didn't you give me a shout?" She asked, walking over to him. "How long you been waiting?"

"Oh, not long." Nick admitted. "I didn't want to bother you while you were working."

Zelda looked down the bar at the people who she had just served. "Psh," she waved her hand through the air. "They're the regulars, they can wait an extra minute." She looked back to Nick, smiling. "Now you bein' here means that you either went to Gatsby's house and survived his ghost, or you didn't go at all. Which is it?" She asked, raising a brow.

With a smile, Nick exhaled through his nose. He tapped his fingers on the counter a bit nervously for a moment, then finally spoke. "The first option sounds about right."

There was a beat of silence before Zelda started to laugh, "You serious?" She asked after noticing that Nick was not laughing with her. When Nick nodded, she leaned closer to him. "Is it true then?" She asked quietly.

"Gatsby says 'hi'." Answered Nick with a non-joking smile.

Zelda blinked and studied Nick's face for a long moment. "Well damn," She said. "It must be true, then." She reached into her dress and removed a crinkly, hand rolled cigarette. Under the bar she grabbed a silver lighter and used it to light her cigarette. "You're not one to joke about these type of things…" She took a long drag and then offered the cigarette to Nick who politely declined. "Tell 'em I say 'hi' too." She smiled around the butt of her cigarette then sighed, taking it away from her lips. "Well-" Zelda said, stuffing the lighter back under the bar. "I'm sure you didn't come here to swap ghost stories. What do you want, a drink?" She asked, waving the cigarette in her hand around, leaving a faint trail of smoke in the air in it's wake.

"A job, if one's available that is."

There was a friendly gleam in Zelda's eyes, she raised the cigarette to her lips with a smile. "There's always a job here for you, Nick." She said, smoke leaving her lips with every word. "Grab a broom." She pointed behind her with her thumb. "I got the drinks, you just worry about cleaning."

Nick smiled, "Thank you, Zelda. You don't know how much this-"

She raised her hand and cut Nick off mid-sentence. "Don't sweat it. You're one of Gatsby's  _ good  _ friends. Someone he wasn't scared to show off." She shrugged, "Plus you're a nice guy. It's nice to have you back, Nick." She said finally, with a nod. Then she traveled to the end of the counter where patrons were asking for more drinks without another word.

Nick could only smile at her for a second longer before he went off to grab the broom and get to work.

There were many good things about working for Zelda. Her bar wasn't too much of a mess, she fed him from her supply of canned foods, and it was sheltered work, but mostly, Zelda was one to talk while she worked and Nick didn't mind talking back to her. But Zelda wasn't one to use small talk, no, she got right into the real questions.

"So, Nick, are you still a writer?" Asked Zelda while piling dirty glasses in a small tin wash tub.

"Well-" Nick sucked in a breath as he scrubbed the bar with a wet rag. The first time Nick had met Zelda, she had asked him right off the bat if he was a writer. She only asked him that because Jay had been telling her how good with words he was… It was embarrassing then and it was still embarrassing. Back then Nick had told her that he had given up being a professional writer but he still did it on the side, but to tell her now that he hadn't picked up a pen to write an original sentence since Jay's death would just be sad. "Not really." He shrugged, diverting his gaze to a sticky ring on the counter.

Zelda hummed and shifted the tub in her arms, the glasses clinking loudly as she did so. "That's a shame. Not too many good writers anymore. And from the way he talked about you, you sounded like you could be one of them." She said, over her shoulder as she traveled to the back room to wash the glasses.

That really made Nick think. Sometimes, Jay talked him up so much that it was embarrassing. But… The compliment still made him feel wonderful inside. It also made him think that if Jay didn't really enjoy his writings, that he wouldn't say those nice things about them. And with Jay being cooped up in his house for the last 13 years, Nick supposed that there had been a limited number of things to keep him entertained. Books probably weren't on that small list, being that Jay couldn't even touch the living, it seemed unlikely that he could flip even a single page from any book in his vast library.

Nick thought and he thought and he thought until he finally came to the conclusion that he should start writing again, and that he should write something for Jay.

That night after Nick left his new job at Zelda's, he went to the closest stationary shop with his small pay jingling in his pockets. He bought a sheaf of paper and a brand new pen. Though they were heavy on his walk back to Gatsby's, he didn't notice their weight with his story building in his mind.

When Nick arrived back at Jay's, it was late. "Jay!" Nick shouted into the dark mansion, shutting the door behind him with a kick of his foot. "I'm back!" He said as he walked back to the library.

Nick saw Jay's pink glow in the dark of the library before he heard him. "I'm in here, old sport!" Jay shouted back. "What's all that?" He pointed to the stack of paper in Nick's hands when he saw him.

Smiling nervously, Nick walked past Jay and put the papers on the floor. "I'm- going to start writing again." He said, plucking the newly purchased pen from his pocket and dropping it on top of the papers.

For a second, Jay glowed so brightly that he could have been considered a light fixture. "Really?" He asked excitedly. Floating in a circle around the papers, examining them. "That's great, Nick! I always hoped to read more of your work." Despite being dead and having no lungs, his voice was breathless.

Nick blushed nearly as pink as Jay was. "That's-" He scratched the side of his head quickly. "Honestly why I thought to pick it up again."

Jay froze and looked at Nick, his smile softening. "Nick…" He spoke slowly.

"Yes?"

"Have-" Hesitating, Jay ran his hand through his hair. "Have I ever told you you're my best friend?"

Nick, having expected (and hoped for) a different question, took a second to respond. "Have I ever told you you're mine?"

Quiet fell around them and together they shared a look that spoke more than what their words did.

Finally, the pink glow in Jay's cheeks darkened to the colour of a sunset and he looked away for a second. "So- you talked to Zelda then? Got the job?"

"Yes." Nick nodded quickly. "Oh- She said 'hi'."

With a smile, Jay ran his hand through his hair again. "Nice to know more than one person misses me then…" He muttered quietly. "So," He fingered the bullet hole in his chest, not noticing Nick's grimace. "What do you plan to write about?"

"You'll see." Said Nick. "I'll show it to you when it's done."

Jay looked affronted, "I don't even get to know what it's about?"

"Not until it's done, Nick smiled unapologetically. "Sorry."

"Have you no respect for the dead?" Teased Jay in fake outrage. "I should haunt you for this!"

"I thought you already were?" Laughed Nick. "At least that's what it feels like."

***

Every night from there after Nick returned back, returned  _ home  _ from his work at Zelda's, he worked on his new book for Jay. It was somewhat hard. Jay had a bad habit of trying to invisibly sneak into the room and read over Nick's shoulder while he wrote, but Nick had gotten used to his presence and could tell when he was there, invisible or not.

It took three months, but Nick finally finished the book near the end of February. And as promised, he let Jay read it. Or actually, he read it to Jay since he couldn't pick it up and read it himself.

" _ Gatsby believed in the green light,"  _ Read Nick. He had been reading the book deep into the night for Jay and it was the end. He was determined to get it finished in one go, not because he wanted the story to be over and done with, but he felt that the story was one that should be experienced without breaks, without even a single pause. " _ The orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther … And one fine morning - _

_ "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back carelessly into the past."  _ He finished, putting the last sheet of paper down.

"That…" Jay softly spoke from across the room. Nick looked up and saw that Jay had pink tinted tears in his eyes. He had no idea that spirits could cry. He took a breath and a single tear ran down his cheek, he didn't bother to wipe it away. "What is it called?" He asked in a whisper so quiet that Nick almost didn't hear him.

Looking up to meet Jay's gaze, Nick spoke slowly. His mouth felt dry and his heart beat hard against his chest. "The Great Gatsby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh, I nearly gave up on this fic because I couldn't think of a satisfactory ending. I hope you all like this! I really like using text from the book when I write my tgg fics! Also, do you guys want more multi-chaptered fics?
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know where this idea came from but hey! Here it is!
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated!!!


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